upon the great Irish manufacture of children! I asked a girl near Carlow, if she would not be afraid to get married, considering the privations to which she was exposed. She laughed very heartily, and archly observed, “you don't know us, we will suffer any thing to get husbands"-But you would not wish to starve with your husband and poor babes? “Och, said she, when I can't support my children, I'll find somebody that will-I'll go beg for them!"

Do not imagine from what I have said, that all the Irish cottages are "bazaars of mud and misery." I have met with some that were very clean and neat, particularly near Antrim. Miss Edgeworth makes us acquainted with groups of cottages, more beautifully painted in the simple colouring of nature, than all the Arcadians of pastoral or romance. `The writings of this inimitable novelist, so remarkable for their sober sense and inexhaustible invention, have made me love the Irish nation, as well as the author who has painted them with such truth, pathos and simplicity. She depicts the native politeness, wit, kind-heartedness and intelligence of the lower Irish, in the most fascinating colours. In the Absentees, she gives the following exquisite description of a cottage scene: The old woman was sitting in her chimney-corner, behind a little screen of whitewashed wall, built out into the room for the purpose of keeping those who sate at the fire from the blast of the door; there was a loop

hole in the wall, to let the light in, just at the height of a person's head, who was sitting nea the chimney. The rays of the morning sun now came through it, shining across the face of the old woman, as she sate knitting. Lord Colambre thought he had seldom seen a more agreeable countenance, intelligent eyes, benevolent smile, a natural expression of cheerfulness subdued by age and misfortune."

All writers bear strong testimony to the natural richness of the soil of Ireland. Arthur Young says that it is superior to that of England, and vies with the richest in Europe.-It is at once a proof of wonderful fertility, and of bad management, that 10 or 12 crops of oats are often taken, in succession from the same fields; and yet a large proportion of arable land is reduced to sterility by ruinous treatment, and by the oppression and poverty of the small tenantry. With a situation so perfectly fa vourable to commerce; with so many spacious rivers flowing through its rich and fertile bosom; with such excellent canals, capacious harbours and bays; with a most temperate climate; with such productive fisheries; with such an abundant supply of useful and indispensable minerals and fossils; with such a fertile, and inexhaustible soil; with every requisite for becoming the great market of the commercial world-how has it happened that this island, so profusely gifted in the prodigality of nature, has dwindled into comparative insignificance and national poverty? The solution of these

questions must be sought in the horrid misgovernment of the country, in the blind and misguided policy of England-in the system of atrocious cruelty and contemptible meanness, which has been displayed against the most active and adventurous of nations:

"Mononia! when nature embellish'd the tint
Of thy fields and thy mountains so fair,
Did she ever intend that a tyrant should print
The footstep of slavery there?"

The Irish females of the lower orders are remarkably discreet and correct in their conduct.* At public places, fairs, &c. they will not permit any freedoms from the other sex; and their amusements are rational and diverting. The Rev. Mr. Hill, (in his Tour through Ireland,) gives a very pleasant instance of female naiveté and innocence, as well as superstitious attachment to priests. A beautiful girl of about 15, who took him for a priest, fell on her knees before him on the road. He asked her if she wished any thing—she craved his blessing and advice, and would not rise from her knees. She said that her father and

*In Edgeworth's Memoirs, lately published, we find some consolatory observations, about the improvement of the middle classes of gentry in Ireland. After speaking of the general mode of living, manners and information, the author says: "The gentlemen and ladies are not separated from the time dinner ends, till the midnight hour, when the carriages come to the door to carry off the bodies of the dead; or, till just sense enough being left to find their way straight to the tea-table, the gentlemen could only swallow a hasty cup of cold coffee or stewed tea, and be carried off by their sleepy wives, happy if the power of reproach were lost in fatigue."

mother were dead; that she worked in a far mer's house for her victuals; that, having no clothes but those on her back, a farmer in the neighbourhood had offered her a gown and petticoat, and half a guinea for liberty to sleep with her. She asked the Reverend gentleman if such a crime would be forgiven? He of course answered, no-and gave her some good advice, and, what was better, money enough to buy clothes without endangering her virtue!

I have had frequent opportunities of observing the veneration which the lower classes in this country have for their Catholic pastors. Their church makes a part of their history; it has drunk deeply of their almost exhaustless cup of bitterness; it has mantled itself with their best affections; it has entrenched itself in their most cherished recollections, and it has nestled itself in their tenderest sympathies. Against such a church, no human power will prevail, although it be only supported by a race of men encumbered with their own numbers, sunk in poverty and struggling with the laws of the land, as with an old and mortal enemy. All their attempts to shake off their odious yoke have hitherto been frustrated; but despair has not laid them entirely prostratethey still look forward to the happy moment of asserting their rights, and of breaking their chains over the heads of their tyrants: "the croaking raven doth bellow for revenge."